


It's Not Enough

by patchfire, raving_liberal



Series: Purim Gifts 2017 [3]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Collection: Purimgifts Day 3, Death from Old Age, F/M, Ghosts, Memories, Old Age
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-13
Updated: 2017-03-13
Packaged: 2018-09-30 04:42:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10153913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/patchfire/pseuds/patchfire, https://archiveofourown.org/users/raving_liberal/pseuds/raving_liberal
Summary: The visitor Eliza most anticipated arrives.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



“And have I found the best of women?” 

“Alexander!” Eliza says before she even opens her eyes. “Oh, I’d hoped you’d come!”

“A gentleman never hurries others, Eliza, but I am here now,” Alexander says. “I’ve missed you so very much.” 

“Is it time? Already?” Eliza asks. 

“Do you not think you’ve accomplished a great deal?” 

“I could do more,” Eliza says. “If I could have just a little more time, I could still do more. For the children, for your legacy.”

“You’ve done so much more than anyone would have dreamed possible,” Alexander says. “I think you deserve a little bit of rest after all of that.” 

“But your papers, Alexander, your writing. We haven’t finished yet. There’s still so much to catalogue.”

“I did write quite prolifically, didn’t I?” Alexander asks. 

“The Lord was prolific when He made the stars,” Eliza says. “You were something else entirely, my love.”

“I would have liked to write more. I would have liked to outlive Jefferson, too,” Alexander says. “You did it for me.” 

“I would have lived _another_ fifty years for that alone,” Eliza says, laughing softly. 

“My dear Eliza,” Alexander says. “I have no doubt that you would have achieved that on the sheer strength of will alone.” 

“Perhaps… perhaps you should come again in a week. Two weeks. I could finish another stack of your papers if I can spare the candles,” Eliza says. 

“You look as lovely as the day we first met, Eliza. I would never want to suggest you need the rest, but my dear, it is time.” 

Eliza sighs, but she nods. “You’re right, of course. A rest might serve me well, and I can see my sisters, as well.”

“And our Philip.” 

“Our boy?” Eliza asks. She feels herself rising. She’s getting to her feet without volition, reaching for Alexander. “Our son?”

“Our son,” Alexander repeats. “It’s time, my dear.” 

Eliza’s hand slips into Alexander’s, and all around her suddenly is light and lightness, joy and love, and whether or not she’s ready is irrelevant. Eliza goes.


End file.
